The Death of the Queen - Act IV, Scene II
Finale
ACT IV
SCENE II
The chapel chancel in the Church of St Peter Ad Vincula. The Countess Leicester stands with head bowed over Robert Devereux's burial vault.
CL. How old I have grown since thy death, sweet youth. My ancient limbs lie lame, unregarded age in corners swept by the perfidy of the Queen. And where is He who providently feeds the sparrow? I begged Him to spare thee, but He heard me not, no answer did He giveth. And now the Queen is dead, she who stole the hearts of husband and son, one whom lies cold in the Church of St Mary Warwick and the other's broken body in treasonous shame interred here.
Sir Francis Bacon enters the chancel.
FB. How now, my lady. Did I interrupt thee at praying?
CL. No, dear Francis. I have not my orisons remembered since that day....
FB. Dear lady, do not block your mind so that it is difficult for truth to gain access. I pray neglect not Him who comforts us in our trials.
CL. No sermons, I thee beg. Not when I stand close upon my sons befoul'd flesh. His head lies cleaved from his corporeal bones in this poore box. How shal our Lord raise him when the final tucket sounds? How shall I pray to Him now?
FB. No man can contend with God without coming to il.
CL. I am no man, Sir Francis.
FB. Or woman either, dear lady.
CL. Aye, but I am more. I am mother, just as the blessed virgin to our Christ. Think ye she rejoic'd when God took her son? Believe it not! In those bloody hours watching Him suffer upon the cross, she remember'd not the high favour of God that conceived the Christchild in her womb. In the rage of her mother's heart she contend'd with Him who hung her son to die an unspeakable death.
Do thee understand me yet, dear Francis? God hath taken everything save for my grandson who wilt grow to manhood without th' firm and guiding hand o' his father. I shall not pray ... I cannot pray.
She reaches for Sir Francis and he embraces and comforts her.
CL. Let us sit, deare sir upon this bench. I am grown weary and would dwell on happier thoughts. Any news of the new King?
FB. He arrived in London yestermorn. I'm told he is of the sharpest wit and invention, employs ready and pithy speech, of exceedingly good memory; and the sweetest, pleasantest and best nature, desiring nor affecting anything but true honour.
More people shout'd with merriment in London's avenues than wept for the Queen's funeral the week before.
CL. Is't true the Queen signed to Sir Robert Cecil that King James would succeed?
FB. So't seems.
CL. Thy believe it not?
FC. I visit'd her highness to condole th' day before she died. She could not speake, staring dully at some invisible apparition, her mind quite absent.
CL. No! Thinkest thou?
FC. Quite likely.
CL. That naughty varlet hath named the King! This be most foul, strange and unnatural.
FC. Best not spoken aloud, my lady.
He raises a finger to his lips and she repeats his gesture.
CL. Thinkest that goode King James might restore the earldom to my grandson, Sir Francis?
FB. I think it worthy of a praying, my lady. I have succur'd appointment with the King and shal humbly try as I may.
CL. Bless thee, Francis. Bless thee. Help an old woman to stand.
He helps her rise and then bows. The countess exits. Sir Francis walks to Robert Devereux's vault and bows his head.
FB. My heart upbraids me, Robert, for the cowardice that tore the truth from my lips our last hour together. I tell you now, what I could not for love of thee confess then. I honor'd our friendship whilest you lived, but no longer.
In thy pride and indolence, thou stole a beloved son from a mother, a husband from a wife and a father from a son. The Queen did not take thee from those you swore to love, nor Robert Cecil, nor God Almighty upon His heavenly throne. Thou didst.
Goodbye Robert. The Queen too is dead. Long live the King!
He exists. Curtain.
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For those of you who have read this play, I thee most humbly thank. I shall on the morrow post an epilogue regarding the true history behind the deaths of Robert Devereux and Queen Elizabeth as well as thoughts and process on the writing of this naughty werk.
About the Creator
John Cox
Twisted teller of mind bending tales. I never met a myth I didn't love or a subject that I couldn't twist out of joint. I have a little something for almost everyone here. Cept AI. Aint got none of that.
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As Christmas just ended how busy was it for you? or have you had it yet for you and your family, do you celebrate it? Even if you do or if you don't life is still really busy this time of year. Not that life isn’t busy every other time of year too, it just feels so much more busy during the Christmas season, wouldn’t you agree? But it isn’t busy with hobbies and living as much as we would like it to be but it could be. Now I know you are probably wondering how this can be so, well it can be so with a mindset shift, what this means is yes this time of year might be busy, but there are ways to make sure that it doesn’t overwhelm us. We can decide to take fifteen or twenty minute breaks every hour just to give us some time to relax and regroup. That is where hobbies can be placed, or we might even have hobbies that we just do during the christmas season. Like watching Christmas movies or playing games, or getting out and building snowmen if it snows where you are and there is enough snow on the ground to do so. We might even just want to relax and watch Christmas movies as a hobby knowing how busy the next few weeks are going to be with Christmas and New years right around the corner.
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Comments (8)
what a way to close out this emotionally frought masterpiece! loved it and again felt for RD's mother and of course Bacon who shone throughout! stunning work, Sir!
Your word choice is impeccable: "No, dear Francis. I have not my orisons remembered since that day...." It sounded so natural, like these words were made to follow each other, her character wasn't broken either. Just wow, John. A masterpiece is a masterpiece. 'Limbs lie lame' is another good one, even though I've passed that bit, I had to go back to fetch it. It had a lasting effect. CL was quite quick to judge there, but maybe it's because she's still affected by her grief. She did not yet realise that 'man' was not an exclusive term, but an inclusive one. 'naughty werk'- I love that, I can't wait to read the epilogue now.
What a treasure you've shared with us John! You've really written quite a masterpiece! I had it in my head that there would be a Scene III so I'm a little disappointed it has ended, but what a final scene this is! Bravo and a standing ovation!
Your tale of intrigue was told masterfully, John! Long live the play write!
You really did a fabulous job on this. Looking forward to the epilogue.
Thank you for sharing it!
Well, it ended as any serious play should. Almost everyone died.
Yestermorn, I don't know why but that word fascinated me so much! Looking forward to reading that epilogue!